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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/26010064">cult classic</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/giggly__gay/pseuds/spritewrites'>spritewrites (giggly__gay)</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>The Umbrella Academy (TV)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Ben is the Voice of Reason, Brotherly Affection, Cults, Gen, Platonic Relationships, Tickling, based on a prompt i got on tumblr, jill's barely in it, klaus is a bad cult leader, listen sometimes klaus is a dick and ben needs to put him in his place, that's it that's the Dynamic, this is a tickle fic, ticklish!klaus</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-08-20</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-08-20</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-06 04:47:36</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>972</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/26010064</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/giggly__gay/pseuds/spritewrites</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>“I can’t take it anymore,” Klaus groans, collapsing onto the sofa. “They’re so… ugh, needy. But not like, sexy needy, just like… gross needy.” His fingertips thread through his tangled beard, as if trying to get rid of some kind of disease or toxin in the hair. </p>
<p>“I have zero sympathy.”</p>
<p>or, sometimes all it takes to be a good cult leader is a kick in the pants. or a pinch in the hips.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Ben Hargreeves &amp; Klaus Hargreeves</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>3</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>51</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>cult classic</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“I can’t <em>take it </em>anymore<em>,” </em>Klaus groans, collapsing onto the sofa. “They’re so… ugh, <em>needy</em>. But not like, sexy needy, just like… gross needy.” His fingertips thread through his tangled beard, as if trying to get rid of some kind of disease or toxin in the hair.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“I have zero sympathy.” Ben’s in the doorframe, like always – half in, half out of Klaus’ life.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Klaus rolls his eyes. “I <em>know</em>, I know, I brought this on myself, I have a responsibility to them, blah blah blah. Your words of wisdom are getting repetitive, Benjamin.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“I just don’t think you understand what you mean to them,” Ben says, but Klaus just buries his face in his hands.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“I kind of don’t care. You know what, asshole?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“I have literally never been less invested in what you’re about to say.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“I’m taking some me time.” Klaus rolls off the sofa and moved toward the big sliding glass doors, only to be greeted by a gaggle (is that the right term? A flock? A murder?) of his followers playing bocce out on the lawn. Ben’s pretty sure he hears his brother murmur “<em>fuck” </em>before he ducks back behind the coffee table.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Quick, hide me.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“I’m invisible, idiot.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Fuck. Right. Uh. Do you think they can see me from here?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Ben rolls his eyes so far back into his head he thinks he can see the afterlife. “Jesus Christ, you’re an embarrassment.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Fuck fuck <em>fuck</em>,” Klaus is saying, and Ben turns to see a horde (yeah, horde sounds right) of people heading straight for the mansion. <em>Excellent.</em></p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>He turns back to see his brother wriggling his way under the couch, grunting and squirming, with the occasional yelp when he bumps his head. “The hell are you doing?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Hiding,” Klaus replies, tucking his beard under his chin and pulling his bony elbows in.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Asshole,” Ben mutters, but then the sliding glass door opens, and Destiny’s Children come strolling in, chatting and laughing together. Ben’s eyes soften. He’s been jealous of the living before, of course – that kind of defines the past fifteen years of his un-life – but these people are different. They’re kind, and generous, and vulnerable. That kind of thing tugs something deep in his chest, something that he still remembers from being alive.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Out of the corner of his eye, Ben sees an ankle disappear under the edge of the sofa. What a selfish <em>asshole. </em>All these good people out here and Klaus just… whatever. Fuck him. He’s made only bad decisions all his life, what’s one more?</p>
<p> </p>
<p>But then Ben’s eyes meet Jill’s, sort of, the best they can, as she scans the room to see if her Prophet is here, and something curdles in Ben’s stomach. He knows that Klaus is selfish, Klaus has always been selfish, but there’s something about <em>this time</em> that he just can’t let sit.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>And anyway, when has he been someone to let his brother off easy?</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Klaus, come out of there.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“No,” Klaus hisses, just low enough that only Ben could hear.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Get up, <em>asshole</em>.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Make me.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Ben cracks his knuckles. “Oh, I will.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>He snatches one of Klaus’ ankles and, before his brother can say a word, scratches at his bare foot. Klaus tenses, squeaks, and starts shaking with silent laughter, tugging weakly at his leg.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Come on, you prick, give up,” Ben teases, scribbling evil fingers under Klaus’ toes. Klaus claps a hand over his mouth, trying to kick his brother away, but his position under the sofa is leaving him with very few defense options. Ben sees him scrunch his nose, trying to keep down his bubbling giggles. So far, he’s succeeding. How is he so good at this?</p>
<p> </p>
<p><em>Fuck. </em>Ben had forgotten one crucial detail: Klaus <em>likes</em> getting tickled. Sure, staying quiet is tricky, even for him, but his brother could hold out a lot longer than most people. He’s got to play dirty.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>His fingers still, and he hears the telltale sounds of Klaus gasping for breath. He scans the room again, eyes drifting to where Jill stands with her fellow followers. Ben can practically feel his blood boiling over when he thinks about Klaus, fucking <em>Klaus</em>, treating her the way he did all of his followers. His gaze slides back to his brother’s curled up act of cowardice. <em>All right, asshole. I can play dirty.</em></p>
<p> </p>
<p>Being a ghost has its advantages. Sure, it’s mostly a miserable hell-fest of watching your brother fuck up his entire life, but sometimes it’s useful. Like, for example, being able to phase your hands through the sofa.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>It takes one pinch to his hip for Klaus’ eyes to grow bigger than Ben’s ever seen them, two for a hilarious squeak, three for a twitch and a silent shake of his head… and then Ben’s attacking, pokes and prods and squeezes to his hips that leave Klaus squirming, wheezing, and red in the face. He’s still trying to maintain some mask of quiet, keeping his giggles to a minimum and breathing hard through his nose, when Ben pulls the ace out of his ghost sleeve.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Placing one hand around each of Klaus’ hip bones, Ben gives him a sly grin and digs in <em>hard.</em> Klaus nearly screams, thrashing like a fish out of water, and completely gives up on trying to keep quiet. Ben gives a little cheer of victory as his horribly ticklish brother rolls out from under the sofa in an effort to escape. He generously releases his hold, giving Klaus a chance to catch his breath, just as all eyes in the room turn on him.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Prophet!”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Klaus’ face is red, whether from the tickling or from embarrassment he doesn’t know, and he’s off like a shot, dashing through the mansion with a retreating cry of “Fuck you, Ben!”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Ben smiles. Serves him right.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Tumblr: spritewrites</p></blockquote></div></div>
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